


There's no hiding for me (so I will say goodnight)

by regionalsky



Series: dalmatians don't catch on fire [1]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Abstract, Car Radio, Death, Fake You Out, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I did SoloChaos' style of title, I don't know this just came out of my head, I sat down to write fluff and this is what happened oops, I think?, Scary, Semi automatic, Short Story, Song fic, Time - Freeform, Weird Ending, actually though, car radio fic, i promise you'll love it, it takes 30 seconds to read but it will fuck your head up, josh has blue hair, look how many tags I put on youre bound to like it, lowkey creepy, no smut or fluff or anything, read this youll like it, super short, that's my favorite josh hair, theyre friends I think, tyler is wearing a sweatshirt, tyler is weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 08:23:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11204160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regionalsky/pseuds/regionalsky
Summary: He waits for him.Will he ever come?(a fic of some parts of some verses)





	1. dragons (don't forget about me)

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to car radio on repeat today for no reason. like three lines hit me weirdly and this came out.  
> "inhale fire exhale desire,"  
> "my skin will scream/ reminding me of who I killed inside this dream"
> 
> (true fact: it was supposed to be cute and fluffy, because that's what I sat down to write. You tell me how cute and fluffy this is.)

It had been four minutes. Four.

His foot tapped nervously. His hands shook within the deep sleeves of his sweatshirt. There was something not in place. Out of place. Broken. Wrong.

Cold air bit his nostrils as he inhaled. He exhaled with dragon’s breath, but a weak dragon. A night and snow dragon. There was no fire, he was too tired. Too cold. He didn’t want anything, anything  
but this boy, this person to come. To prove he still could; that he still would.

The dream couldn’t be real. It couldn’t have been.

 

The boy with the blue hair didn’t come.

He knew it he knew it he knew it, when he saw the scratches on his arms. His face, his eyes had hollow circles. It hurt, it burned, his skin screamed because it told a story he knew but didn’t want to hear. It told him to wait for blue hair to come around the corner, lips covered with wax because they were sunburned or windburned from whatever he did that day. 

It screamed at him, what he had done. He hadn’t done it, no. That wasn’t real. He was asleep and not there, not with the phone in his hand, barely reading the words through bleary eyes. That night was passed under blankets, not laying on his side watching little green bubbles pop up. He hadn’t moved, right?

But no, then it was five minutes and six minutes and ten and then an hour, an hour was gone and the entire night. There was no sleep this time, because he had slept the night before. Right?

You’re lying, that’s what his head said. You’re lying. Listen to what you did to yourself. You were awake- barely- but you did it. You did it and now he’s gone, gone gone gone because that wasn’t a dream-

Even if you killed him in your dream, you still killed him in real life, it said. He wanted his head to shut up. 

He threw his phone off a bridge; they would never find it.

Would they ever find him?


	2. running (little rabbit feet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semi automatic.  
> "Night falls with gravity/the earth turns from sanity"  
> "My only friend I know"  
> "His name is hope"

It was cold and snow crunched on the ground and it hurt and he couldn't be found.   
Bloody forehead- tree branches don't bow to anyone, not until you come back with weapons. Lop them right off the trunk; cut them; break them; kill them.  
He did not have anything to help.   
The branches still did not bow, and he held himself beyond gravity with the barest whisper of strength.   
Night pushed in on him and he ignored it, he ignored the gravity.  
Run, he whispered. Run run run run because they know, they know and you can't go back.   
Blood dripped in the snow behind him. Stained his clothes. It didn't taste too bad. His mouth was broken. No words, only whispers.   
It was wiped from his mind, the sanity of it all. The world was gone from logic, from mindfullness, turned to chaos and disorder like some disrespected god bound to be relentless to its helpless subjects. There were no answers to be found; only questions of where he was-  
and-  
Who was he?  
What had he done?  
It was that dream, that nighttimedream that scared him.   
He found a car. There were no windows, nobody home.   
The glass inside scratched him. He didn't care. Better to cover the scratches already there-  
But no-  
He hasn't done that, had he?   
They would never find out, anyways.   
That was the only hope, the only friend he had anyways.


	3. quiet (my hands can't do a thing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> silence gives you space to imagine things.  
> a lack of silence can leave your head spinning.  
> (more weirdness)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fake you out   
> (personal vessel favorite)  
> "In the night/ headlights call my name"  
> "I'll never be what you see inside"
> 
> (the italics are on purpose)

Headlights. In his face. Eyes. Froze, because no one was supposed to be out there, right?

 

He was not ready to come back. Reality still wasn’t quite real; he hadn’t reached his destination yet, wherever he planned to go.

 

The gravel _crunched_ and the car pulled up to him. He pretended he was dead.

 

“Are you Tyler?” The headlights asked; there was no face behind him.

 

A whisper wouldn’t make it out. He could only shake, shake, and the snow kept falling.

 

H e slammed to the ground and the car door slammed with him.

 

 

The car was too hot. It melted some things in his mind, pushing against the dam, overflowing the stream of thoughts. The water _stole_ everything, all the things he could do. Stifling heat. Pushing water. 

 

The man, the _headlights_ talked. He said words. He said not words. He said things so many times they became not words.

 

“Sorry,” he said. I’m so sorry, sorry, sorry sorry. Sorry. Sorry. You’re safe now. Sorry, sorry sorry sorry sorry

sorry

so-

 

Because that’s what would happen, someone would say a word too many times and then it would become just letters without cohesive meaning, the man said the letters over and over and the boy could not  feel his chest move.

 

Maybe Tyler wasn’t breathing. 

 

Was he sorry? Did he need someone to be sorry? Was it his fault?

 

No, because the thing was gone. _Melted_ in the water, along with his brain. Water washed away all traces of bad things- sin- maybe Christianity was right about something-

 

He didn’t do it. He was mourning, to this man and to all other men the boy was mourning and that was it. He could never be sad, he couldn’t think about it. Because he didn’t do it.

 

There was a small conversation he wasn’t involved in. Headlights traced over the trees and his damp sweatshirt started sticking to his skin as the man held it up to his ear and tried to keep his voice low. Tyler tied and untied a bowtie with his hoodie strings. 

 

Tyler wasn’t sure when he would see, _feel_ the soft blue hair again but he would. He knew he would. 

 

The man thought Tyler was crying in sorrow, but no, he was happy. Happy he would see him again.


End file.
